


Memento Mori

by KayomiKitten



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts, I don't know how to tag this, KIND OF I GUESS, Kind of happy ending, No Beta, One Shot, Queen - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, The Author Regrets Everything, halloween fic, no actual death shown, not really horror, sad confused roger noises, this is garbage honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayomiKitten/pseuds/KayomiKitten
Summary: Roger laid in his bed for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, watching as the room gradually got lighter as time went on. He woke up feeling off, an odd sense of wrongness swirling inside of him. He couldn’t explain it, it wasn’t exactly fear, or sorrow, or trepidation, he just felt… off.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I am warning you now, have low expectations for this. It is garbage. 
> 
> I rushed this so hard becasue I wanted to get it done before Halloween was up. This was a bitch to write I had so much trouble but I am too stubborn for my own good, so I'm sorry. Quite honestly, I just ran out of fucks to give towards the end. So yeah... 
> 
> I hope the story is like clear and everything. Literally i don't even know I'm cranky and tired and delirious with hunger I just want to stop trying right now. 
> 
> Enjoy maybe. Probably not. 
> 
> If anyone likes this I will be genuinely shocked.

Roger laid in his bed for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, watching as the room gradually got lighter as time went on. He woke up feeling off, an odd sense of wrongness swirling inside of him. He couldn’t explain it, it wasn’t exactly fear, or sorrow, or trepidation, he just felt… off. 

The strange, uncomfortable feeling dampened down his usual sunny demeanor, leaving him feeling more reserved and quiet than usual. He couldn’t place why, where the feeling had come from, today was meant to be a good day. 

They had done it. The boys had finally managed to get a recording contract. A real, legal contract at a proper record label. Finally, they had the chance to prove themselves as a band. The world was going to get to see the passion and talent they all knew was inside of them, just waiting to get out. 

The feeling followed him as he left his room and headed to the kitchen of his shared flat. He was the first one awake, which was rare, but he was oddly grateful for something inside of him wanting to keep being alone. He rummaged through the cupboards, looking for something to eat, because he felt like he should, despite not being hungry. Even the idea of coffee was strangely unappealing, which was a bit of a red flag. 

Maybe he was getting sick, and that’s why he was feeling off?

He forced himself to scarf down some dry toast and half a glass of milk, both of which had surprisingly little taste, which added to the theory that maybe he was getting sick. It was a simple enough explanation, and he latched onto it. He sat alone at the table , trying to shake the feeling, trying to hype himself up for the day, but he just couldn’t. 

Something moves in the corner of his eye, and he whips his head around to follow it, expecting to find a spider or little bug that had found its way into the flat, but what he sees appears to be the figure of a person barely visible in the early morning light. Roger freezes, blinking and rubbing his eyes, and the figure is gone, the shadows on the wall having returned to normal. He breathes a sigh of relief, he must still be tired, his brain playing tricks on him. That's' all. 

Though he had the strange feeling of being watched, of not being completely alone as he knew he was. It was strange, and definitely irrational, but he chose to ignore it and wait for the others to join him. They eventually did, shuffling out of their rooms one by one, greeting each other with sleepy grumbles. 

“My god, it’s bloody freezing in here!” Freddie complains as he takes a seat next to the drummer, mug of coffee in hand. 

“It is a bit nippy isn’t it?” Brian concedes he sits on the opposite side. “Must be that early autumn air.”

“I didn’t think it was that cold.” Roger says with a frown, Freddie waves him off. 

“You’re an abnormality darling,” He says, causing Brain and John to laugh. 

“I’m a bloody what?’ 

“You’re a strange one, love, don’t act like you don’t know.” Roger huffs in mock offence, but he doesn’t actually mind. “Being the first one up today, for example, I heard you in here making food a good two hours ago.” 

Roger frowns, had it really been that long? It hadn’t felt that long to him..

“Blimey Rog, how much sleep did you even get?” Brain asks, both amused and concerned. Rogers frowns deepens, because thinking about it, he doesn’t have an answer. 

Did he even sleep last night, he honestly can’t remember sleeping at all, but he doesn’t feel tired so surely he must have? The uncertainty amplifies that feelings of before, and they all settle in an uncomfortable cocktail in the pit of his stomach. Someone clears their throat, and he looks up to find three pairs of eyes looking back at him expectantly. 

Oh crap, he hadn’t answered yet. 

“I don’t know, enough?” He mumbled out with a shrug, trying not to let his demeanor show on his face. 

“You alright, mate?” John asks, voice soft, mouth twisted into a slight frown. “You seem...off?” 

Well that’s apt description, not that Roger could do much better, because it’s true, he is off. He pauses for a moment, thinking of playing it off, but deciding to be honest. 

“I feel off.” He admits, with another small shrug. “Can’t explain it, not bad, just off.”

“Are you nervous about today?” Brian asks with sympathy, and Roger shakes his head, nervous isn’t the word he’d use. 

“Not anxious or sad, just feel..” He waves his hand, trying to convey his message. “Off, just wrong.” 

“Do you know what caused it?” 

“No idea, just woke up today feeling all out of place.” Roger says, little voice in the back of his mind reminding himself that he’s not actually sure he ‘woke up’ at all today, but he elects to ignore it. 

“See, told you you were an abnormality.” Freddie attempts to lighten the mood after a few moments of silence where nobody is really sure what to say. “Only you would be in some sort of a state on a day like today!” 

“Sod off.” Roger says with an eye roll, waving off Freddie’s usual theatrics, knowing the singer is only winding him up. 

“Leave him alone, Fred.” John chuckles, reaching around to collect the empty plates and place him in the sink to deal with later. “I’m sure he’ll be right as rain once we get into the studio, right Rog?” 

Roger nods, agreeing with a smile that is more forced than he cares to admit.

It’s not that he’s not looking forward to going to record, it’s just that….well...he’s not  _ not  _ looking forward to going to record. He doesn’t really feel strongly either way, though he deliberately doesn’t voice this. He should be excited, he knows, he should be over the fucking moon, but the uncomforable wrongness seems to overpower all the other emotions. 

But he carried on with his day, in the hopes the feeling would eventually subside. 

xxxxxx

The feeling did the exact opposite, only seeming to grow as the day progressed. Insistently clawing at the back of his mind, seeming to say that something wasn’t right. He tried to keep ignoring it, just focusing on getting dressed and getting outside to the car, but it didn’t let up. 

He was grateful when Brain offered to drive, unsure if he’d be able to properly focus on the road. He shuffles into the back of the car, looking out the window at the dreary London weather. He watches the people and places passing by, not really taking it in, just observing, until something catches his eye. 

A man stood on a street corner, innocent enough, but Roger can’t look away for some reason. The man looks average in build and dress, nothing sinister about him at all. He’s just standing here, not moving, almost like he’s waiting, just when the signal on the crosswalk changes, he just remains in his spot. 

The man's eyes lock with Roger’s as the car passes by, and Roger feels a sudden pang of fear going through him. The man doesn’t move, his expression neutral. He doesn’t make any threatening gestures or mouth anything terrible, but looking into his eyes, Roger almost feels as though he can’t breathe. Frozen in place until the car passes and the eye contact is broken.

He takes a deep shuddering breath, the after waves of the anxiety still flowing over him, settling back against the seat.

“Alright, Rog?” Deacy asks.

“Yeah… Yeah ‘m alright.” He mumbles, he doesn’t know what just happened, or who that man was, but he hopes he’ll never see him again. 

xxxx

At the studio setting up the equipment, the feeling still doesn’t fade, it only grows. 

They’d been here already the day before. They’d met with some of the employees they’d be working with, got a little tour, and even got to sit in on another artist's recording session. It was all so exciting and incredible and Roger longed to have those pleasant feelings back again. 

“Roger!” He jumps upon being called, wide eyes settling on Freddie. 

“Huh? What?” He blinks at the singer who frowns.

“I asked you to go grab a tape since the drums are already set up.” Freddie points out, looking at the drummer with concern. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” 

“Darling, are you sure you’re alright?” He’s asked for the millionth time that day.

“Yeah, I’m okay Fred, just having an off day is all.” He says, wishing the words brought him any comfort. Freddie doesn’t look convinced, but Roger turns to walk away before he can speak more. 

He feels anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach with every step he takes towards the tape closet. It’s like his body is telling him to turn back, like it knows something he doesn’t. He pauses in front of the door, feeling frozen in place with fear for the second time that day. He brings his hand up to the doorknob, hearing his heart pounding in his ears as he closes his fingers around it. 

He hesitates a moment, taking a breath to steady himself.

The world seems to move in slow motion as he turns the knob and door gently creeks open. A small amount of light pools in from the open door, illuminating the different tape rolls and various other equipment stored in the room. 

And in the middle of all of it, slumped on the floor, is a body. 

Not just any body. 

Rogers' body. 

Roger recoils in shock, backing up in the wall behind him, as if to put some distance between him and the body. His brain races, desperately trying to make the current situation make sense. Is that him? It can’t be? How can he be in there?

This is all some terrible dream, it has to be. He can’t be… can’t be…

He stumbles back to the others on shaky legs, dropping to his knees in front of them with a scream, all the pent up fear and discomfort of the day escaping his lips in that one moment. There are hands on him and voices around him, but he doesn’t really feel or hear them, he can’t process anything over his own sobs. 

“Roger?!”

“Roger, love, what on earth is the matter?!” 

“Rog, mate, what’s wrong are you okay?!”   
  


“I...I’m dead..” He wails, practically screaming at the top of his lungs again. “I’m fucking DEAD!” 

The room grows quiet, and he feels it again, that feeling of being watched, and he brings his head up, to find the same man from before standing before him. He’s quite close, but none of the others acknowledge him.

They lock eyes again, but this time, instead of fear, Roger feels oddly calm. His breath evens out, his tears stop flowing, and fear drains out of him, leaving him feeling relaxed and at ease. Oh, of course. He knows this man, he knows why he’s here, and he knows that he has nothing to be afraid of. 

The man, seeming to understand exactly what he’s thinking, offers him a smile, which he feels himself return. 

“Roger what are you looking at?” One of the others yells, desperately like they’ve been trying to get his attention for a while. “And what the bloody hell do you mean you’re dead?!”:

“I died..” Roger says, turning his eyes away from the man, towards the speaker,who it turns out is Freddie. “I forgot about that.” 

“Roger what the hell are you talking about of course you’re not dead!” That’s Brain, he thinks anyway, but the room is beginning to fade. 

“Bodies in the closet…” He mumbles, his brain slowly growing dark. “See for yourselves.” 

“Roger, darling, please, you’re not making any sense.” 

The man pulls out a black pocket watch from his coat, and taps a finger onto it. He doesn’t say a word, but the message is clear: time’s almost up.

“I love you lot, all of you, you’re my best friends. I’m sorry we never got the chance to make that album, but you’re all amazing and I know you’re gonna take this thing far. Don’t ever doubt yourselves, and fuck anyone who tries to tell you you won’t make it.” 

There’s more he could say, more he should say, but he’s fading, growing numb, with every second that passes, he feels and thinks less and less. The others are talking, quite frantically, but he can no longer see them or make out the words. 

He looks back to the man, and tilts his head in question. The man nods, stepping forward past the others, and holds out his hand, time to go. 

“I love you..” He mumbles out again, hoping the words are clear enough to make out. 

Roger reaches forward with the last of his strength and cognition, and takes the man's hand in his own. The man gives him another smile, and Roger feels nothing but absolute peace as the world completely fades away, letting himself be led on to the next life. 

It was a good life, but it was his time to go. 


End file.
